


Letters

by Kadma32



Series: Our Future [3]
Category: God's Own Country (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadma32/pseuds/Kadma32
Summary: Johnny meets Gheorghe's family for the first time.And it is possibly the scariest thing he has done in his life.
Relationships: Gheorghe Ionescu/Johnny Saxby
Series: Our Future [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045542
Comments: 20
Kudos: 55





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, English is not my first language and this work is unbetaed. 
> 
> I think you can read this work without having read the other two parts, but it might help to understand what I tried to do with Johnny's evolution as a person.
> 
> Compared to the previous works in this series, this was more of a challenge for me as it was my first time introducing characters not in the canon and I have played a little bit around Gheorghe's "origin story" as I don't think he says too much about it in the movie. Anyway, let me know what you think and I am very open to suggestions as to how to make this part of the story better :)

Why had he agreed to do this? 

Ah, yes, a direct order from Deirdre Saxby, who, straight after Gheorghe’s citizenship ceremony, had insisted that it was not proper for Johnny to get married without knowing his in-laws and visiting at least once the country of his soon to be husband. 

Then he could do whatever he fancied, but he had to go there at least once. 

‘Nan, the farm’ he had tried to protest. 

‘I can manage a few things around the place if you catch up with everything else before you go. Your friend Robyn helped me contact a nurse who could come to help me with your dad for the days you are away’ 

‘That is too expensive nan!’ Johnny had replied, making a mental note to himself to tell Robyn not to ally with his nan against him again.

Not that he objected to his nan’s idea. It was the exact opposite in fact. For a moment, he pictured himself finally, finally travelling somewhere, and for the incredibly unexpected purpose of meeting the relatives of a man who wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. 

But she had to be aware that it was not possible. It was just that it did not feel right to let the weight of the farm on her shoulders. She was great at helping out, she kept the house clean and all and helped with dad, even helped with the beasts sometimes, but Johnny had noticed, even if he had not told her, that she was moving more slowly now, and that, sometimes, when she sat at the table or on the sofa, sometimes she would sigh in relief. 

But, for all his objections, she had turned to him, given him one, stern look that said  
‘It is not proper. We might be strung up and all, but we do things properly here. You are getting married; you meet the relatives of your future husband that can’t make it to the wedding’.

And that was the end of it. Johnny was eternally grateful that he hadn’t met his nan in her youth, when he reckoned she was as fierce as it gets. 

The morning they left, Deidre gave them both a packed lunch, muttering that she had heard airlines charged a fortune for the worst grub in the world and they needed subsistence. 

‘And take this, would you mind?’ she said, passing an envelope to Gheorghe. Johnny frowned. What on Earth?

‘It’s for your grandmother. I might see your mother at the wedding, but if your grandmother cannot travel, I want her to have this. You might need to translate it though. But it is for her ears only’ 

Oh, shit. Gheorghe’s grandmother was super important to him, according to what little Johnny had managed to gather from his partner’s sparse information. Johnny suspected she was one of the “old ladies crying for their children who have gone” and no, she did not speak English, for as much as Gheorghe’s own mother was a teacher and could have helped her learning. 

‘She is as stubborn as you ’ Gheorghe had said to him once, before rubbing his hand on the top of Johnny’s head. 

So no, she did not speak English. And no, his Romanian had not improved much further than “Eu sunt Johnny”. 

He suspected this trip was going to become such as shitshow, but for now he kept it quiet. 

So, there they were, sitting side by side on the train to the airport.  
Gheorghe was flipping through the pages of his new British passport. After the swearing in ceremony, he applied for one and, after a month or so, it came through the post. 

The definite end of it all. One more confirmation that they were safe. 

Gheorghe hadn’t said as much, but, under his quiet smile, Johnny could tell he was so excited to use it. He guessed using the proof of all their work was going to make it real somehow.  
Johnny reached out and took the little thing off his hands, flipping through the pages. 

‘Yours looks different’  
‘How so?’ 

Johnny took his passport out and gave it to him to flip through. The decorations on the pages were different, and Gheorghe’s passport didn’t have the “European Union” bit on the top.  
Not to mention their own picture. Gheorghe’s one looked like the one of some sexy demigod, while Johnny’s was that of a dorky eighteen-year-old with stupidly huge ears and the eyes of a lost boy. 

Gheorghe smiled fondly as he passed his thumb over the picture. Johnny took his passport back and threw it back in his bag. 

‘How old were you there?’ 

‘Eighteen I guess’ he said, crossing his arms to his chest as he slumped on the seat. 

‘Did you go anywhere with it?’

‘No’ Johnny shook his head. He had never been anywhere, least of all on a plane. Not that he was nervous about it. 

‘Why did you get a passport then?’ 

Fair question. They were another little expense and mostly used for travel. Johnny frowned, feeling the familiar need to shut down and not talk about his feelings and all that mushy stuff. 

But this was Gheorghe and things were different now. He wanted to try. Johnny took a deep breath and said: 

‘I saved up a little and insisted on getting one even if my dad mocked me and told me off for wasting money. I thought I wanted to be ready in case the chance to get away from the shithole that was my life ever came about’ he said, all in one go. The memory was nasty. He remembered the mockery and the spite. But now he wondered if it was all because his dad had simply been scared he was going to disappear just like his mum had done.  
Well, he could have trusted you, no? A little voice inside his head said. Johnny squeezed himself more in is shoulders, telling himself that it was in the past. His anger didn’t have a reason to be anymore. 

Gheorghe took his hand and squeezed, silently telling him that now things were different. There was no need for a way out anymore. He had actually found a way in. 

Finally, they got to their stop and, after being a little pushed by other people with big bags, they got off the train and into the airport. 

‘What now?’ Johnny said, already fed up with the amount of people everywhere. He was not used to crowds, with the most amount of people he had seen in one go was the gang of fellow drinkers in the pub. 

‘Come’ Gheorghe said, showing him the way forward. 

They were only going for four days, including the travel days, so they saved some money stuffing two rucksacks with socks and pants, but that meant they could skip and go directly to the security checks. 

‘Have you taken all liquids and gels out?’ Gheorghe asked, as they joined the queue. 

‘Yes, yes, stop fussing mother hen’ Johnny said, rolling his eyes. 

‘Freak’ 

Johnny had prepared his bag meticulously; he even took his shoes off as directed by the attendant.  
And yet, as he passed through the metal detector, of course the blasted alarm went off and the guard had to pat him down.  
As he was released to go and get his stuff, Gheorghe’s lips were curved in an ever so slight amused grin. 

‘What?’ 

‘Nothing’ 

‘Fuck off’ 

‘Freak’ 

‘Faggot’ 

‘So are you’

And there they were, sitting on a bench side by side, snacking on Deirdre’s food while waiting for the airplane to board. 

‘Fancy going for a walk? Stretch our legs before they call the flight?’ Gheorghe proposed, standing up and stretching his back a little.

‘Maybe in a minute’ Johnny said, realising he was not too sure he was going to be able to stand.

‘Nervous?’ 

‘Maybe a little?’ 

‘You know that we don’t have to do this, right? We could organise a video chat with my grandmother and that would be that. Deirdre could be there too, and she could see my grandmother’

Johnny could not lie to himself. It was nice to have a way out if he really wanted to. But it was ridiculous. He was about to have something he had wanted for a long time, go and see something new, and now that he was right on the edge of it, the nerves were making his nauseous. 

‘Do you think’ he started, before interrupting himself after feeling ridiculous. 

Gheorghe did not ask. He just sat back down quietly, giving time to Johnny to process what he wanted to say. 

Come on stupid brain, think, he thought before finally adding:

‘Do you think there could be a “good fear”, together with the “good sadness?”’ 

‘Are you scared?’ Gheorghe said, frowning. 

‘I am shitting myself. and yet I really want to do this’ Johnny replied, looking straight ahead of him. He didn’t want to see the concern in Gheorghe’s face, even if he could feel the vibration of it in his own self. 

‘Scared about the plane?’ 

‘That, but not only’ Johnny replied. Surely, he didn't have to spell it out. Suddenly, he was quite jealous of Gheorghe himself. He had it easy, right? Ok, ok, his dad and nan were not the easiest people on the planet, far from it, and Gheorghe had met them without pressure, they were just his employers, right? Now, Johnny’s situation was a whole different kettle of fish: meeting mother and grandmother as they started to plan a wedding. He wasn’t really a great match now, was he? What were they going to say? 

Could they have enough power on Gheorghe to sway him away from the worst mistake of his life?

‘Yes, I guess there is. I was terrified the night before leaving for England'

'Seriously?'

'Yes. But excited also. For what is worth, my mother and grandmother will like you. Regarding the plane, well, who knows what will happen. Accidents can happen’ 

Johnny slapped Gheorghe’s leg. 

‘Ouch’ 

‘Serves you right’ 

‘You know’ he said, more serious this time. Gently, he took Johnny’s hand and said:

‘You can hold my hand if you get scared’ 

‘Shut up’ Johnny replied, turning his face around. 

But he did not let go. 

When the time to board arrived, he followed Gheorghe mechanically, showing his document and ticket to the attendant at the gate. They waited for a while in a long, plasticky corridor with tons of other people, most of them speaking Romanian, but with a few speaking English. Everybody will be speaking Romanian when we land, Johnny thought, right before feeling like a complete idiot for that stupid thought. Finally, people started to move, and Johnny and Gheorghe stepped on the aircraft. 

‘Welcome of board’ a smiling steward said to Gheorghe as they walked past, towards their seats, 18 A and B. 

‘You got to have the window seat’ Gheorghe said, and he didn’t complain, liking the idea to look outside. 

This was much more exciting than a night out in Bradford. 

His body stiffened up when everything around him started to tremble. A child further up from where they sat started to cry incredibly loudly. Could not blame them really, this was frigging scary. Johnny gripped the armrests as the airplane started to speed up on the runaway. 

Silently, Gheorghe put his hand on Johnny’s, turned it around to interlace their fingers together, and squeezed. Johnny tried to relax. 

According to Gheorghe, the landing had been relatively soft. Johnny couldn’t figure out how he could describe it as soft all that bumping around but hey. 

‘There is going to be a scramble to get out now. We are not in a rush, no?’ Gheorghe said over the voice of the head steward, warning people to stay seated. He had said the warning in Romanian first and then in English. 

Johnny nodded. He was ok to wait. Suddenly, he was scared again. The steward had given the instructions in two languages, but was it always going to happen? Of the original message he had only understood “ladies and gentlemen”. 

He looked at Gheorghe. He was completely in his hands. The loss of control was terrifying. 

They finally got off the plane (after Gheorghe helped an uncountable number of old folks take their luggage out of the overhead lockers), and back into the tube, connecting them to the main body of the airport. So, at first, it did not really feel different, it just seemed like someone had gone around the airport and changed the signs with some in Romanian first and the English subtitles underneath. 

They got to the passport control and already made it for the gates with the guard, not the e-gates, to give both of them a new experience: Johnny had never been in a situation like that, and Gheorghe wanted to use his brand-new passport. 

‘You know, this is making it feel more real’ Gheorghe said, flipping through the pages again. 

‘Because it is real, and we frigging deserved it after all that work! Come on, your turn’ Johnny replied, pushing him forward when a counter got free. 

Then another guard got free. 

‘Salut’ Johnny said, passing his document through the plastic. 

The guard didn’t even look at the passport. He lifted his bored gaze on Johnny, looked at him for a second and asked:  
‘English?’ 

‘Yes?’ Was it a trick question or something?

And the guard waved him away after passing his untouched passport back. Did he look that obviously English? 

Was that supposed to be an insult?

‘All good?’ Gheorghe asked. Why did he always have to be so perceptive whenever Johnny was a little thoughtful?

‘Yes, you?’ he replied. No, there was no point in mentioning it. 

‘All good. Come on, let’s go’ Gheorghe said. Johnny was half expecting a kiss or something, but Gheorghe just smiled and started making his way out. Johnny followed, looking around himself in the hope to find anything resembling a “bus stop” sign, only to break his march abruptly when Gheorghe stopped in his tracks. 

Following Gheorghe’s sight, Johnny spotted two ladies a little further away from the main mob of people waiting for family and friends. 

One of them was taller and younger, with long, salt and pepper hair in a braid and a big smile on her face as she waved at the two of them. At that distance, she came across as quite jolly and approachable, with her thick, brightly coloured sweater and jeans. The other was older, a little curved under the passing of time. As they walked closer to them, Johnny noted immediately how her eyes were just the same as Gheorghe. And they were scrutinising him. For a moment Johnny felt he had a lot in common with a mouse just about to be caught by an owl. 

‘Mama’ he heard him whisper as he smiled and quickly rushed forward to two ladies waving at them. 

No, wait, Johnny wanted to say. The plan was for Gheorghe and himself to make their way independently to their hosts’ home, this was not expected. 

And he was not ready for it! Damn it people!

But there was no way out of it! Stupid Ionescus and their stupid big heart. Frigging surprise welcome party! Great. 

Johnny moved closer, but stood a few steps behind, watching as Gheorghe kissed both the tall lady and the elderly one on the cheeks. For as scared as Johnny was, he felt an annoying wave of tenderness as he was Gheorghe smile. There was a little sparkle of happiness as he talked in quick Romanian with the ladies, probably telling them about the flight. 

Then, the older of the two moved forward, very slowly, towards Johnny. She was quite close when she gestured to Johnny to bend forward a little. 

And she kissed him on both cheeks. 

Johnny’s body stiffened up immediately, his ears heating up like there was no tomorrow and his brain’s SOS alarm blared loudly in his mind. The elderly lady frowned before saying something in Romanian. 

Johnny raised his eyes to Gheorghe. There must have been so much terror in his eyes that Gheorghe chuckled before saying: 

‘My grandmother is asking if she has broken you’ 

‘I am sorry, I told her that British people don’t do that, but hey, she is more stubborn than you can imagine’ the younger woman said, shaking her head as she smiled. She spoke a little slower than Gheorghe and her accent was a little stronger, but all in all perfectly understandable. Perhaps it was a sign of how much Gheorghe’s English had improved by staying with Johnny’s family. 

The grandmother said something else, with a big cheeky smile on her face. 

‘She is happy she can still make a young man blush’ Gheorghe translated, shaking his head. 

‘Anyway’ the younger woman said before taking a big breath and saying:

‘Welcome, I am Mariana, and the crazy old lady is Iolanda’ Gheorghe’s mother said, stretching her hand out for Johnny to shake. 

Johnny looked at the woman’s encouraging smile, then at her hand and then up to her face again. 

‘I am told you are meant to shake it’ she whispered with a cheeky smile. 

Johnny suddenly woke up and muttered:

‘Shit, I am sorry. Johnny’ 

He managed to finally shake her hand, feeling his face reach new levels of redness. 

Great, the first word you say to her is a swear word, fantastic job brain!

In his defence, his ears had tuned into Gheorghe’s conversation with his grandmother, both chattering away in quick firing Romanian. 

What were they talking about?

‘Johnny?’ Not John?’ Mariana asked, bending her head to the side.

‘Johnny is fine’ 

Only Gheorghe called him John, and, suddenly, he wanted it to remain that way. 

‘Ok, Johnny it is’ Mariana said, smiling gently. 

‘Come, let’s go. Lots to do and not much time’ 

‘I didn’t know you were coming, I thought you were at school’ Gheorghe asked, walking slowly with Iolanda holding on to his arm. 

Johnny had the strong impression Iolanda’s eyes were not leaving him. She was studying him. He had read that views of gay couples in Romania were widely different from the ones back home. Did she object too? Did she hate him? Wait, he told himself to slow down, it did not make sense for her to hate him and then kiss him on the cheeks and all. 

And yet he could not shake that fear that was gripping his stomach. 

Fuck, he really should have improved his Romanian to talk to the woman! Stupid pride, if he had swallowed it a little he could have asked Gheorghe’s help and now he would not have found himself in that situation. 

Iolanda suddenly tugged on Gheorghe’s jumper, pointed at Johnny with her chin and said something. 

There we go. When is the first plane back? Johnny thought, biting on his lower lip.  
Gheorghe chuckled. He fucking chuckled in that secret language of theirs. 

He answered his grandmother, who laughed too before finally bothering to dignify Johnny with a translation and say: 

‘She thinks you are too skinny and is blaming me for not feeding you enough. I blamed it on the rain washing everything away’ 

‘Seems reasonable’ he replied, Johnny said, biting on his lower lip again. Was it just him or speaking Romanian was making Gheorghe happier? 

‘So, let’s feed you both‘ Mariana intervened, taking Johnny’s arm, who immediately stiffened up again. 

‘Come, let me treat you to something nice. We have both waited for this moment with great excitement’ she said, smiling. 

Why the hell were they always smiling at him? 

He nodded and tried to relax as they made their way to the car. Gheorghe helped his grandmother sit in the front as his mother took her position behind the steering wheel. She turned the radio on, and the two ladies immediately started to chat in Romanian to each other. The car was quite small, so Gheorghe and Johnny barely fit in the back. Johnny watched Gheorghe laugh at a joke his mother made when what he understood to be the parody of a very old song started to play on the radio. 

To be fair parody and parodie were fairly similar words. 

Johnny turned around from his partner. Suddenly, he did not want to see it anymore, he did not want to see him that happy in a place where he could not follow. Even if he could learn all the Romanian words in the dictionary and learn to string them together correctly, how long was it going to take before he could know these things, these stupid old songs, or a reference to an old movie?  
Could it not be that necessary? Johnny thought. After all, he is quite happy back in England, no? Johnny turned around just for one more second, just to check it. 

Not, it was necessary, look at that stupidly happy smile. 

He turned back to look out of the window again. Beautiful buildings were starting to flow past his gaze and yet he did not see them.

Johnny stretched his arm and grabbed Gheorghe’s hand, squeezing it hard, hoping that the offer to take it if scared was still on the table. 

Gheorghe’s mum parked right outside a not particularly descriptive block of flats. It wasn’t too tall, maybe five apartments, with sturdy balconies . Johnny was surprised for a moment, remembering only last minute that no, they were not going to a farm like his. Gheorghe’s childhood farm was gone. He looked around himself. All around, there were similar blocks, with a few trees here and there. 

Did Gheorghe live with his family here long before coming to England? When did they leave the farm? Was he happy in a place like this, far away from where the spectacle of spring could show itself at its most beautiful?

Suddenly, there were so many things he wanted to ask Gheorghe now that they were on the site of a life Johnny didn’t know. In England there had been some words, but not nearly enough to tell him what Gheorghe had felt, what the trauma had been like. 

And he wanted to know everything, even if it was terrifying. 

They entered the building, the two ladies chatting away and Johnny and Gheorghe following.

‘The lift is a little small, we might have to do two trips’ Mariana said, as Iolanda detangled herself from Gheorghe and called the elevator. 

‘Not a problem, we can go up by the stairs’ Johnny volunteered without a second of delay. 

‘Seems fair, see you up there. You still remember the floor?’ Mariana said to her son, who promptly rolled her eyes. 

‘Yes’ 

‘Just checking’ she replied, closing the door. 

They were finally the two of them again. Alone. 

‘I am sorry, they can be a handful. I should have warned you’ Gheorghe said, shaking his head with a fond expression on his face. 

‘Yes’ Johnny replied. 

‘You ok?’ 

Johnny looked at him for a moment. 

Bring me to your farm. Show me where you grew up. Show me where you gave your first kiss and where you had sex for the first time. Tell me how you felt when you left the farm? Tell me you were lonely like me.

Tell me you were looking for me as I was waiting for you. 

‘Yes’ Johnny said again. Always too many words. Always too many thoughts. He looked at Gheorghe and, for a moment, wanted to scratch his perfect face out. How did he learn to be so composed? How did he learn to sort through his thoughts and emotions? 

His family. Of course. It had to be the cheeky mother and the even cheekier grandmother. And who knows, maybe his dad was not so prone to constant judgements without even the smallest word of comfort till he had a stroke. 

Right, what happened to his father?

‘Come here’ Gheorghe said, before, out of the blue dragging him into a hug. 

‘They will be waiting for us’ 

‘And they will wait’

‘You should be making the most of the trip. It’s not long’ 

‘I am’ Gheorghe replied, squeezing him a little.

‘Idiot’ Johnny replied, hiding himself in the crook of Gheorghe’s neck. Hiding himself from all those stupid thoughts. 

Him and his stupid, dark mind. 

‘Freak’

The ladies had left the flat’s door ajar. As they entered, they were presented with a feast, laid on a table in the middle of their living room. The room felt cosy, with a nice sofa, a bit worn here and there, a stand with a television, and a bookcase stuffed with books, to the point that the shelves were bent in the middle. And there were pictures on it, pictures of so many faces Johnny didn’t know. He was about to move closer, see if he could spot Gheorghe, when the ladies came back in the living room. 

‘I sincerely hope you are not vegetarian Johnny’ Mariana said, as he put yet another dish on the table. There were so many different types of cheese, bread, and salami-types he could stuff himself for days and now she was adding a plate with strange looking dumplings that smelled strongly of cabbage.

‘Sarmale?’ Gheorghe said

‘Well, we wanted to get Johnny to try something typical so we racked our brains to find something not too intimidating for someone new. Plus, grandma made them, not me, you are safe. She wanted to make stew too, but I told her that would be enough for one meal’ 

Iolanda asked something and Mariana translated, only to get Gheorghe’s grandmother to say something else. 

‘She is asking if your grandmother cooks’ Mariana said as they sat around the table. 

‘Yes, sometimes’ Johnny replied. Somehow, the memory of his nan’s food felt comforting.

‘Oh, I almost forgot’ Gheorghe said, before opening his bag and taking Deirdre’s letter. 

There was a lot of back and forth between Iolanda and Gheorghe, till they finally decided he was going to translate it to her before going to bed, but she insisted on keeping hold of the letter.  
‘She says “It’s for me. I keep it. God knows where you young people have your heads and you might lose it”’ Gheorghe translated. 

Suddenly, Johnny felt a little better. 

‘That’s exactly what my nan would have said’ 

‘Most certainly’ Gheorghe replied. 

The food was absolutely incredible. Johnny couldn’t remember the last time he had food so flavoursome. Ok, at first the cabbage thing was a little strange and very stinky, but absolutely fantastic. 

The conversation, instead, was not as great. It started off with some questions by the ladies about life in England, about the farm and all, but, little by little, for as much as both Mariana and Gheorghe tried to remember here and there that they needed to translate for Johnny, they seemed to revert to such rapid Romanian that he had not hope on Earth to catch even one of the few words he had learnt. 

Those feelings he had in the car came rushing back immediately. 

‘Who is ready for dessert?’ Mariana then asked, this time in English. 

No matter how much both Gheorghe and Johnny protested that they were incredibly full, Mariana brought over some kind of huge cake. 

‘This is called Papanași, Johnny, I think, it’s kind of like doughnuts, but better. But this we didn’t make, we bought. As a child Gheorghe used to eat far too much of it’

And they soon started talking again, sometimes translating sometimes not. 

And Johnny made a promise to himself. The next time they were going to be back, he was going to be speaking fluent Romanian, if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Time seemed to fly by and, before he knew it, it was already getting dark outside. Mariana stood up, starting to collect the empty dishes. 

‘Let me help you’ Gheorghe said. At least, Johnny thought that was what he said, given the context and all. 

No, no, don’t leave me with your nan! His brain screamed as Gheorghe disappeared with his mother to the kitchen. 

For a moment nobody moved, neither Iolanda nor Johnny. He had the stupid thought that, maybe, if he stayed completely still, maybe she was not going to notice him much. 

Then she moved, slowly standing up to go to the stand with the pictures in the frames, but she didn’t take any of those. Instead, she seemed to want to take a book out of the shelves, but they were so tightly packed that she seemed to be struggling with the task. Johnny rushed forward. 

‘Care? Which one?’ he asked. The word for which, as in which one, came out naturally. Iolanda turned around to look at him with big, wide eyes. She pointed at a green covered book that turned out to be a photo album. 

He passed it to her as a river of Romanian words he had no idea what they meant came out of her mouth. She looked at his face again, smiled as she shook her head, patted his arm, and slowly moved back, photo album in hand. She patted the seat where Johnny had been, in a silent plea to move back and sit next to her.  
Johnny swallowed and did as he was told. 

She opened the album. The first few pages were full of pictures in black and white. Johnny did not have time to even register what he was looking at that she was turning them over, getting to mid-way through the book, finally stopping on a school related picture. There were about twenty children, all dressed up smartly, looking at a camera in front of them. Some were sitting on the floor, others crouching a little in the front row, and a few others, the tallest, were standing at the back. 

‘Gheorghe’ Iolanda said, as she pointed out a boy in the back row. But Johnny had already recognised him. 

Somehow, he thought, he would have recognised Gheorghe anywhere, anytime. The boy in the picture was obviously different from the man of today, no beard for one, but he had the same thoughtful feel in his eyes as he looked at the camera, while the other kids were smiling or pulling funny faces. 

Iolanda put her hand forward, to catch Johnny's attention. He lifted his gaze and nodded, hoping he understood it right and that she had meant to ask permission to turn the page. 

‘Gheorghe’ she said again and again, showing him more and more pictures. Slowly, that barrier between the two of them started to crumble and they found a way to communicate with each other. It was a weird way, made of grins, arch eyebrows, and hand gestures, but Johnny felt himself starting to really, truly relax.  
They both laughed at a picture of him covered in mud, probably from a time when they still owned the farm. He could see glimpses of it through the pictures: animals, flowers, wonderful blue skies. 

And, in quite a few of those pictures, there was an older boy with Gheorghe. And, even though Mariana and Iolanda herself appeared in quite a few of them, there was no sign of a father. 

Johnny took all that was left of his courage and pointed at the picture of the boy. 

‘Cine?’ Who?’ he said. 

Iolanda did not answer at first. There we go, he must have gotten the pronunciation wrong. 

‘Andrei’ she said, shaking her head. 

Who the hell was he? 

Mariana and Gheorghe appeared on the scene right at that very moment and immediately the two women started to chat in Romanian. Gheorghe instead was quiet as he walked towards Johnny. The album was still open on the same page. Johnny watched Gheorghe look at the pictures, studied his face as he focused on the boy Iolanda had named.  
Johnny opened his mouth to say something, but promptly shut it when Mariana said: 

‘Gheorghe, could you help your grandmother to bed? Plus, you need to translate her that letter, right?’ 

Gheorghe and Johnny exchanged a look. 

Did Johnny need to be scared?

Gheorghe nodded and helped Iolanda out. 

‘Noapte Bună’ he heard her say as Mariana took her place. 

For a moment, neither of them said a word. Then Mariana finally talked. 

Johnny was preparing himself for anything. Anything at all. But he was not expecting her to say: 

‘Thank you’ 

‘For what?’ 

‘For having given hope to my son’

He was missing something here. He hadn’t given him any hope or anything like that. If anything, it was the other way around. 

‘Surprised, aren't you?’ she said. 

‘Yes, in truth’ 

‘Gheorghe doesn't say it or admit it but has been through a lot. We all had. But I think he has suffered more than most young people when we lost the farm. You see, the moment the farm was gone, well, his father left us’ 

Ah. There we go. Suddenly, that comment Gheorghe had made about Johnny’s mother leaving, about it being hard and all, made more sense. 

‘And I didn’t make it any easier for him. It was extremely hard, but, you know, after a while I got my teaching job, enough to support myself and the crazy old lady, and Gheorghe, at least, until he found a way to leave and go to England’ she said. There was no trace of her happier attitude anymore. 

‘And this boy’ she said, pointing to this unknown Andrei or whatever. 

‘Was his best friend. Well, more than friends even though he has never told me as much. When we lost the farm, well, he left too. He disappeared’ 

Johnny clenched his fists on his knees as a surge of anger at those words rushed through him. 

‘I think Gheorghe managed everything by turning a lot into himself. Finding solace that way I guess, thinking that everybody leaves after a while, that it is just the way. He was never the chattiest of kids but became quite a taciturn young man. But when you went for him to Scotland, I think, you gave him hope again. So, thank you' 

Gheorghe came back at that point. 

'Nan is asleep? 

'Yes' 

'Well, there you go. I might go for a rest too. You young people go out, have fun or something' she said, standing up and giving Gheorghe a little peck on the cheek.

'See you tomorrow' 

And finally, they were alone again. Gheorghe sat down next to him, sighing. 

‘That took a while’ Johnny finally had the courage to break the silence. 

‘Yes, I didn’t expect Deirdre to write so much’

‘What did she say?’ 

‘I can’t tell you. She asked to keep it for my grandmother's only remember?'

‘Oh, come on, tell me’ 

‘Not a chance’

Then, from that more playful attitude, he turned more serious. 

'I am sorry I left you like that. And I am sorry for the constant Romanian and'

'It was pleasant though, no?'

'What was?'

'Romanian, speaking it I mean' 

Gheorghe sighed again, bending forward on his knees, rubbing the top of his head with his hands.

'Yes. It was. It's difficult to explain but'

'I think I get it' he replied. He could stretch his imagination enough to picture a scene where their roles were reversed, where he was the one having to speak another language all the time. He could imagine the pleasure of speaking those familiar sounds again. Even hearing it more could help. 

Mental note. Investigate if there is any way to watch Romanian telly from the UK. 

'What is it?' Gheorghe asked, still bent a little forward. 

'What is what?'

'I can tell there is something wrong John' 

'You know me too well’ Johnny replied, shaking his head. He had two options now. Retreat into silence. The easy route, the one he knew best of all. Or talking. Making a difference. 

And what the hell, he had gone so far already, he had to continue. 

‘And yet I seem not to know anything' 

Gheorghe sat up again, frowning.

'What do you mean?'

'Andrei. Your father' Johnny saw Gheorghe wincing imperceptibly when he mentioned that. 

'But not just that. I do not know stupid songs on the radio. I don't know what's so funny about that parody they made'

'You got it was a parody?' 

'Well yes, but that is not the point' Johnny replied. No changing of topic please, this is already hard enough as it is. 

'What is the point, John?' Gheorghe asked. 

There it was again, the mass of thoughts in his head, crowding his mind so much it felt like it was exploding. 

But he needed to speak out now. He took a deep breath and, looking down at his hands gripping his knees, he ordered his thoughts and said:

'Will there always be a barrier between us? Will there always be stuff I don't know about you?' he said, lowering his gaze as he felt himself blushing.

'There are some things I don't know' 

Johnny was not expecting that. He lifted his gaze to Gheorghe and said:

'Like what? You know everything! You see the state of things back home'

'But you never told me about your childhood's best friend. Or why you find Monty Python movies so funny' 

'Because they are hysterical' 

'Sometimes I do not understand some British humour, sometimes I don't understand people speaking with regional accents. Sometimes I find that people say something insulting to me and I figure out that they were trying to offend me three days afterwards as their jokes were so cryptic' 

‘You didn’t tell me that. Who offended you?’ 

‘Not important’ 

No, probably it was not in that very moment. But the problem remained. Were they never going to cross that invisible barrier? 

‘You know, I have an idea’ Gheorghe said. Johnny watched him stood up and closing the door leading to the rest of the little flat. Then he turned around and smile. 

Johnny frowned. 

‘Well done, you closed the door’ 

‘The door to the world. To stupid parody songs and strange British humour’ he said, getting back to seat next to Johnny. 

‘Here there are just the two of us. None of that matters. If we want, little by little, we could open that door and let the world in. But it will be our decision. Here, we can be just us. Does that work for you?’

Johnny bent a little forward, pecking Gheorghe’s lips. 

‘Yes’. 

They did not go out that night, opting for staying in, enjoying that little world of their own. The day after they woke up late, a little concession to being on holiday, as they would normally wake up at the crack of dawn.  
Mariana had already left, while Iolanda was sitting on the sofa reading what looked like a tabloid magazine of some kind. As she heard them get in, she stood up and went immediately for Johnny. 

Not for a kiss this time. She stretched out her arms and gave him two envelopes, one with his grandmother’s name, while the other had Johnny’s name on it.  
She then said something he had no idea what it meant and turned to Gheorghe. 

‘She said the one for you is for your eyes only. She said not to let me read it, you need to read it for yourself when your Romanian is good enough’ 

Johnny nodded, throwing his immediate thought “Ah, that means never then” down the drain.

They had a world of their own. No reason to fear. 

‘Mulțumesc’ he said to Iolanda. 

‘Thank you’ she replied, looking at Gheorghe for a sign of approval that what she had said was correct. 

Johnny smiled. Maybe he had been a fool all along to be so worried about it all. 

Years later….

‘Dad! Are you coming? She will be here soon!’ Michael shouted from downstairs. 

‘A minute!’ Johnny shouted back, as he finished trying to tidy up his and Gheorghe room. He was perfectly certain that his son’s girlfriend was not going to want to snoop in her boyfriend’s parents’ room, but hey. God, he was feeling so nervous! 

Suddenly, a little envelope fell from a novel, the first Romanian book he had managed to read. 

It took him a moment to recognise it as Iolanda’s letter. 

He passed his hand on his name before opening the envelope. Surely it was time now. 

‘Dear Johnny, 

You are a good man. In your grandmother’s letter, she told me about all the struggles you went through and that, for a while when you were younger, you were in a dark, dark place and made a lot of awful choices.  
But she also said that you are brave and extremely loyal. I might never know what awful choices you made, and I do not want to know because everybody makes them, some worse than others. But I can see your courage. You stood by Gheorghe in an unfamiliar land, with a bunch of people talking in a language you did not understand. But you did not fuss, you did not run away, and you even indulge an old woman like me.  
Please, look after each other. There will be happy times and hard times. Take all that courage of yours and you will be fine. 

You are a good man Johnny Saxby. 

Iolanda’ 

Johnny brought the letter to his chest and he breathed deeply. 

‘Daaad!’ 

‘Coming!’ he shouted back, hoping, no, knowing, that Iolanda would have been proud.


End file.
